


Xanderborne fics

by faint_of_hearts



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faint_of_hearts/pseuds/faint_of_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 2015 election brought back a lot of fun memories when I was actively participating in the Lolitics fandom. </p><p>Going through my writing folder and finally adding the fics to my AO3 account.  Lots of PWP with Xanderborne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. See You In My Dreams

It wasn't something that just suddenly struck Danny. It happened gradually through out the 18 months that he worked with George. It started with watching the way George would chew on his pens and it made Danny think of how his boss would look sucking cock. Then Danny focused on his dark wavy hair and wondered how it would feel in his hands as he blew a load down his throat. Then it was his smile, his hazel eyes and now Danny is obsessing over the Chancellor's goddamn hands. He is beginning to think it is some kind of sickness that he'll never get over. 

He is supposed to be meeting with Chloe to help get her up to speed on some of Justine's older briefs but Danny shut himself in his office. George is giving evidence to one of the select committees and he's sitting at the table. He looks bored and above it all. Danny shudders and feels a rush of blood head south as George rolls his eyes and his middle and ring fingers glide over his palm. It isn't a sexual gesture at all but it does things to Danny. He's never wanted to bend over for someone the way he wants to for George. Unable to deal with the erection forming, Danny turns the select committee off and rests his head against his desk. Maybe he could ask Nick for a new job....

**********

Danny didn't notice George was back until the moment the lock clicked shut on his office door. The hair on the back of Danny's neck stood up as George walked behind him and gently placed each of his hands on Danny's shoulders.

“You were sleeping Danny. You should go.” His voice was just above a whisper. The scent of liquorice Allsorts lingered on George's breath, in Danny's nostrils. Those fucking perfect hands were massaging each shoulder.

“But I want to stay.” Danny's voice was husky. His lightest touch had flipped the switch in Danny, his cock aching with the attention his shoulders received. Danny swiveled around in his chair until he was staring at George's pant fly. The outline of the Chancellor's erection showed through the fine material. He wanted it too, he wanted Danny. Danny unfastened his belt, eyes gleaming and the leather snaking through each loop to freedom. Shaking, Danny's hands found the zipper, and trying not to let his nerves show, he unzipped George's fly, freed his bulging cock and took George straight into his waiting mouth.

He moaned instantly and grabbed fistfuls of Danny's ginger hair as he rocked back and forth, back and forth, his hard smooth cock filling Danny's mouth. It wasn't a blow job to Danny. It was more like he was allowing George to fuck his mouth and that notion sent a ripple of pleasure throughout Danny's body. As George continued to pump in between Danny's wet lips, his head thrown back in bliss, Danny stopped him suddenly.

“I've never done this with another man before, but I want you to fuck me."

With a sweeping move, George cleared the top of Danny's mahogany desk, papers flying everywhere. He lifted Danny out of his chair, pulling Danny towards him. George kissed him on the mouth, his tongue meeting Danny's, both of his hands on Danny's face. Then those warm, pale hands grabbed Danny roughly, directing him to the desk. He then bent his chief secretary over the surface of the desk. Danny's palms were spread flat on the surface in front of him. Gentle fingers undid his belt and trousers, sliding them along with his y-fronts down his legs, letting the fabric pool at Danny's ankles. He was pinned by George's body behind him, his erection pressing against Danny's arse.

Its like George is a mindreader and finds Danny's hidden bottle of lube in his desk drawer, kept there just in case. Danny looked over his shoulder watching as the clear liquid flows over George's slender fingers, the excess is cool as drips down and lands on his freckled skin. And then he hisses as one of those slender digits is slid straight up, in one smooth motion, inside Danny. And then George crooks his finger, moves it somehow, and Danny sees stars. He bucks up against George. The Chancellor chuckles softly and slowly adds another finger. Two, and Danny starts whimpering, two of those long slender fingers sliding into him wet and gentle. Danny shudders as those fingers hit that spot again. And fuck, Danny's mind is having a hard time processing that George is scissoring him, preparing him for his cock. He can't take the preparation any longer.  
“Fuck me now, please, just fuck me now!” Danny pleaded, quivering. He needed his thick cock to fill him to the brim until his heavy balls rested hotly against his arse.

**********  
He didn't realize he fell asleep until he is shaken awake by one pissed off pixie. 

"You were supposed to meet me 35 minutes ago." Chloe is agitated and Danny tries to hide his embarrassment and arousal behind his desk. He apologizes to Chloe and tries to focus on his work, both regretting and hoping for the dream to come true.


	2. Dreams of Grian

The Autumn Statement brings poor news along with shorter days and cooler weather. The longer nights bring strange dreams of the Scottish highlands and a naked Danny shimmering bright against the backdrop of verdant green. 

"Come where it's warm," he pleads, in his soft Highland accent. His eyes are like arrows, sharp and stark. George offers himself to the sunny warmth. 

Danny Grian, the God of the Sun descended, his radiance touching George, chasing away the blanket of darkness. It was the stuff of legends, being warmed by Danny’s light, his loyalty. 

The dream nears the conclusion as hands clench in dewy grass. George dragged his slender fingers deep into the earth. Muscles rippled under pale, smooth skin that covered them. His chest strained, gasping for air, head twisting to look back at the ginger man preparing to fuck him.

“This is how tribute was paid to the old gods.” It doesn’t makes sense, nothing in this dream world does. 

There was no sound from either man as Danny rocked his erection slowly into George. George hissed and Danny dipped his head, lips kissing, and burning George’s shoulder. Danny’s teeth grazed against heated skin and tasted the beads of sweat with a flick of his tongue. The movement of Danny’s hips drew a shudder from the body he was rutting. Danny pressed one hand to George’s lower back and taking a firm grip on short dark locks, he pulled. It forces George to arch up, uncomfortable but perfectly angled for Danny’s cock to hit that sweet spot of nerves. 

The body under Danny’s tensed, the flare of intense pleasure coupled with the pain of the unnatural bend rushed through quivering flesh, and dragged a raw, guttural moan from George’s throat. The god doesn’t even need to touch him, to make him come. Danny’s release burns through George’s body seconds later, and everything becomes bright and intense like a solar flare. 

In George’s dreams the jealous winter is held at bay whilst the true sun sleeps in the arms of a mere mortal.


	3. Simple Needs Are Scarce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was listening to a lot of Dredg when I wrote this fic. The comes from the song Catch Without Arms. I always feel that the lyrics to that song fit well with George and Danny.

George raps lightly on Danny’s office door before he enters. Danny wets his lips, sizing up his dark-suited, clean shaven boss. After Nick stormed out, he has been dreading this meeting with George. He doesn’t see his friend. Danny sees the gloss; George’s credentials, his expertise, his persuasive, eloquent charm. He is here to sell Danny on the Tory ideal budget. 

They speak in their language, huddled together on the couch with papers and charts strewn across the floor and tables. Their language is the one learned by finding some middle ground, and then by minute wordless adjustments: the language the body speaks and the mind interprets. It is learned by degrees, of both talk and touch. 

Danny isn’t sure why the meeting was even necessary. George flatters and smiles. He is willing to talk about the concessions Nick is asking for via Danny. And in the end Danny will buy it, seduced by words, friendly pats and touches, and the clever way George’s brain operates. 

Danny passes him in the lobby, when they are both on their way home. He is on his mobile, making last minute changes to his agenda tomorrow. Danny hovers catching George’s eye. When the call ends, George grins.

“I think I could use a round or two at the pub.” He invites and Danny is just too eager to say yes. This isn’t the salesman or the Chancellor, but this is George his friend talking. They both have been working hard and Danny has been away from his family and friends for a while. He is human and lonely since friends are in short supply these days. He doesn’t think twice about walking out with George and catching a cab to some trendy place that George heard about. 

****

Michael ambushes him after PMQs. Out of the corner of Danny’s eye he can see Vince and Nick hovering on the side. Of course they would send the other friendly, tall Scot to talk with him. Danny starts wonder if it is they or if it is just one of them. Nick knows, Nick is in the middle of it too. Danny starts to question Vince. He has been leaking memos and it all reeks of how he and Sarah Teather started the revolt that ousted Charlie as leader. 

Before Michael can even ask, Danny just says, “Not here. My office or yours.” 

Michael’s smile disappears, “Mine, if that is all right with you?” The change in demeanour signifies that he doesn’t want the chance of others in the Treasury to hear something. Danny nods his agreement and follows Michael down the maze of corridors. 

The door isn’t even shut when Michael starts. 

“You’re too close to Osborne and the other Tories. You’ve gone native.” The same words, the same anger, just a different voice, a different face. Too much zeal supporting George and taking on the role of assistant Treasury hatchet man. Letting his temper get in the way of listening to critics on the health care bill and other coalition errors. Reminders of being under-qualified in his role as Chief Secretary. Like David Laws would have been a miracle worker if he could have stayed. 

“It isn’t your job to please George Osborne.” Michael concludes. 

"Nick and I are fighting bloody hard." Danny growls, resisting the temptation to bang his hands against the table, the wall, Michael’s face. "It is not easy."

Michael’s expression flashes sympathetic. “I know.”

Danny’s had enough and gets up to leave. His hand is on the door knob, and he can’t leave without having the final word. “I haven’t changed Michael. I still have the same values, the same ideals I started with.” 

After meeting with Michael, Danny makes a point to cancel his lunch meetings Chloe and avoids seeing George outside of work purposes. It is only a short term measure he tells himself. It is just to reassure Danny that he was still his own man, and that he was still a Lib Dem. That George and Coalition politics hadn't changed him.

*****

George shows up at his flat in the middle of the night. Danny stares at him for a moment; confused and slow to comprehend, as if George's late night arrival has just shaken him from a deep sleep. But that's not what happened at all. In fact, Danny hardly ever sleeps anymore. The budget, what the Lib Dems think of him of what he’s trying to do, thoughts of George, all keep him awake. 

"Can I come in?" George asks, jamming part of his leg into the tiny opening, so Danny can't shut him out. There are dark rings around George's eyes and he hasn't bothered putting any product in his hair, the dark curls looking messy.

"Sure." Danny nods, stepping aside. George has only been to Danny's London flat a few brief times for some policy emergency. He should have stayed away. Danny never should have thought they could maintain a friendship. They ought to be clipped and formal with each other. They ought to be so stunningly, icily tolerant that the rumours of Danny becoming one of them will stop. Never impolite, of course, but never quite friendly either.

"Danny, what did I do? You've been cold and stiff around me and I don't understand why."

"Nothing, everything is fine." 

"No it isn't. You've been avoiding me like I have the plague. It’s been going on for weeks now. I deserve to know why."

"Do you want coffee? Tea?" Danny says. 

"If that means, you're going to talk with me, then yes. Tea." 

Danny prepares two mugs with teabags and flips the electric kettle on. He watches George from tiny bit of wall that divides the tiny kitchen from the living area of the flat. George's jacket is off and he drapes it over the back of Danny's sofa. George looks vulnerable without his armour of bespoke suits and silver cuff links. The blue jeans are dark wash, looking crisp and fresh off the rack. His grey t-shirt is thin, like the kind that is usually paired with a pair of pyjama pants. It leaves little to the imagination, clinging to George's pudgy stomach. The kettle sounds and when Danny returns, George is sitting, flipping through one of Danny's magazines. He hands George a steaming mug. His smirk is weak and less smug as he looks up and thanks Danny.

“Did I do something to offend you?”

"Maybe." Danny takes a sip. "I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing myself. I’m there to do the least pleasant tasks. I’m the one that says ‘no’ a lot and delivers the bad news. I thought that if I distanced myself from you, it would be better. I wouldn’t be a Tory by proxy.”

"Danny." George touches his shoulder, his hand squeezing and trying to be comforting. 

Danny shrugs him away, “Don’t touch me.” 

“Fine. Hit me. Argue with me. I don’t care. Take whatever you need from me to get over this.” 

Danny feels horror at the suggestion of hitting George. “Why? Why would you even suggest that?” 

“I just want my friend back. I want you to be able to joke with me again. I want you to stop caring about what the media is reporting. You’re still as Lib Demmy as they get. If you weren’t we would have settled the budget days ago.” 

“Stop trying to placate me. I’m not some child." Danny grabs on to George and he feels like he is going to hit him. They stare at each other for a moment. Then the tension snaps, they move at once. George’s arms pull Danny into an awkward sitting hug; Danny’s fingers tangle in George’s hair. They kiss, hard and desperate. His lips part, and Danny runs his tongue over the contours of George’s mouth. He tastes only faintly of the tea he just drank. George shifts and Danny presses him onto his back, George doesn't resist him. When he crawls over his body, George reaches up to hold on to Danny’s shoulders.

He kisses George again, his uniquely shaped mouth first, then his pale throat, the sensitive spot where neck bends into shoulder. He is attractive, and Danny is sure this is the first time he's noticed it. He's never thought of George like this, never wondered what it would be like to fuck him. 

“Your offer, whatever I want, I can take?” Danny asks, bracing for rejection. 

George arches his back, pushing up and against him. Danny closes his eyes, feeling George’s denim clad erection grinding against him. 

"Do you want to go in the bedroom, Danny?” 

"The bedroom sounds good." 

The room is not small, but the bed is too large for it, making it feel cramped. George’s eyes dart around, taking in the smallest details. Danny comes close, circling his arms around George’s waist from behind. George leans back, short enough that his head fits beneath Danny’s chin. 

"Danny.” He murmurs.

"Quiet," he tells him, tired of talking. 

George turns in his arms, pressing a kiss to Danny’s mouth. He's trembling, but where George touches him, his hands are steady. Danny slips the thin shirt off of George. He reaches out to run his hand over George’s stomach, tracing the interesting folds of flesh. 

He smiles a little. They both know that he is used to being admired by readers of Heat magazine. Gently, he takes Danny’s hand, drawing it to his lips for a kiss. Danny pulls away and reaches for the front of his pants instead.   
Danny strokes him through the stiff fabric of his jeans. George draws a sharp breath; his cock is already straining uncomfortably against the denim when Danny slides the zipper down. Danny hooks his thumbs into the jeans and the boxers underneath. George’s hips wiggle as Danny pulls the material down his muscled thighs and calves. 

Danny kneels and he licks his lips. His mouth is close enough to George’s cock that he can probably feel the moist heat of Danny’s breath on his bare skin. Danny’s tongue flicks out, lapping up the little bead of fluid at the head of George’s erection, and then Danny’s lips part and slide over him.

Danny hears George’s breath catch in his throat. He pushes against Danny. Danny uses a hand to hold on to George’s hip for support. His other hand wraps around the base of George’s cock as Danny eases forward. Danny attempts to be methodical and precise with George; he makes a systematic experiment of finding what he likes. Darting away, then returning a moment later, fluttering over him delicately. 

He takes Danny’s chin is his hand, tilting it back. George shudders as his cock slips out of Danny’s mouth. “Not like this. I want to feel you inside me.” 

As Danny strips out of his plaid pajamas, George crawls over the mattress. He looks over his shoulder, waiting for Danny with his arse up in the air. Danny moves behind him, kneading and squeezing George’s hips and buttocks. Danny’s lips graze the nape of George’s neck.

His hand slips around and below George’s waist. George makes a little noise deep in his throat, pleased and pleading as Danny’s hand strokes his cock. He's slick and hot, flushed with blood. He gasps, jerks up against Danny’s hand, when Danny flicks his thumb over the head of his cock.

"I've never done this with anyone." Danny confesses before spitting into his palms and rubbing the saliva over his erection. One hand continues to tease George’s cock as Danny uses the other hand to hold on to George’s hip. He pushes forward, and George hisses, his elegant fingers clutching the sheets. His tight muscle flexes around Danny’s cock as Danny pushes in deeper.

His thumb circles and teases the head of George’s cock, distracting him and making him writhe beneath Danny’s weight. He pulls out so that only the head of his cock is still inside, then plunges back in, letting George feel every inch. Soon, George’s hips are rocking back, meeting Danny’s thrusts.

George begins to moan and dirty talk as he gets close. His cock is pulsing in Danny’s hand. He tries to hide his face in the pillows to muffle the noises, but Danny tugs on his hair, pulling George’s head up.   
“I want to hear what you sound like when you come.” Danny growls in that soft Highland accent, his teeth nipping George’s pale shoulder. Small sounds escape from George, and Danny’s hand jerked faster. He felt George’s body tense, then relax, the rush of his warm release spills over Danny’s hand.  
He pushes into George a few more times, feeling the pulse of internal muscles all around him; George is shaking beneath him with each thrust. His fingers find George’s and they twine together as Danny spends inside him. Danny’s arms quiver and he drops his head on George’s shoulder. His breathing is ragged, feverish.

They remain still a while, silent, shivering occasionally as the room’s cool air licks the sweat from their bodies. Danny hasn't pulled out of yet, enjoying this closeness and the feel of George’s body. Eventually, dazed and feeling sleepy, he eases his wilting erection out. 

“Blanket?" George asks as he curls up on his side. Danny retrieves the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulls it over them. George slides over and presses up against him. 

“Are we okay? Will you quit pushing me away?” George pushes a lock of red hair back away from Danny’s forehead. “The job changes things. It doesn’t change who you are.” 

George kisses him before dozing off. Danny is coming to realize that he can learn to live with many things, including the critics within his own party.


	4. The New Couple

Danny told the nosy reporter. "I’ve never played computer games with George but we occasionally have dinner."

And that quote is how George wound up with Danny in Number 10, goofing around with video games instead of dealing with the PR disaster that was the budget. 

Danny is shrieking as his car ran off the Mario Kart track, again, for the 15th time. George laughs as Danny mutters curses. His car is back on the spacey track and he jams the button down, attempting to gain full speed to hit George’s car. Danny loses control of the avatar, missing George and flying into space.

“We can try another game.” George offers, steering Luigi across the finish line. “Rock Band is a lot of fun. It’s more cooperative instead of competitive.” 

YOU LOSE is flashing in big letters across the television and Danny sets the Wii-mote on the coffee table. “I’ll pass.” 

They should buckle down and attempt to do some work but George busies himself in the flat’s kitchen, fetching biscuits and making tea, whilst Danny chooses a show from George’s collection of telly box sets. 

Biscuits and mugs of tea are on the coffee table. And maybe a marathon session of the Borgias wasn’t the best idea he and Danny could have come up with. Watching that much telly has made George’s limbs feel uncoordinated with disuse and his eyes were heavy. His felt warm, noticing he and Danny had drifted closer together on the couch. He could feel the weight of Danny’s arm across his shoulders.

Danny made a soft chuckle as George moves. "Still awake?"

It was easier to hear Danny's breathing than the dialog of the show. And George never noticed until after the Times ran that article The Rose Garden romance between Dave and Nick has cooled. Now George and Danny are the coalition’s new couple. 

He now wonders how he never noticed before reading it in print. Danny always knew what kind of chocolate he liked. He would always have a bar of dark chocolate hidden in his suit jacket, ready to hand out whenever George needed cheered up. He was always quick to accept dinner invitations. He always seemed to know the right things to say to make any situation brighter. 

The magnet was always there. That draw was always present, like some scientific law. How could he have been so blind? George’s eyes trace the shape of his lips. The flicker of the television screen played with the blue-green colouring of Danny’s eyes. 

“Danny.” George ran his slim fingers down his arm. Danny’s fingers met his, warm and soft, folding into each other.

Danny glanced over, grinning. “Took you long enough." 

He bends his head down and George’s breath fogs the lenses on Danny’s glasses. George shifts to make it easier for their lips to meet, their eventual kiss is soft and lingering and absolutely perfect.


	5. Beltane Eve

Beltane marks the return of vitality, of passion. Ancient traditions say that Beltane marks the emergence of the young God into manhood. The sun returned, overcoming winter’s short days and chill. People, in hopefulness, celebrated the beginning of summer. The night air is filled with the scents of rowan and hawthorn caused by fires burning in the hills; the winter faeries are crying and wailing. 

For years Danny had celebrated alone. Yet, like so many things in the last few months, this too had changed. He wasn’t a superstitious or a pagan man, but he fondly recalled the intriguing tales his granny would tell him. Grian, fire kissed and blessed by the sun. 

George smiled at Danny as he finished lighting the candles scattered around the bedroom. Green for fertility and luck, white for peace, red for strength, sex and health, and yellow for energy and happiness. He had also helped Danny hang wreaths and garlands of flowers around his Aviemore home; flowers symbolizing Summer’s victory over Winter and blossoming sensuality. 

A part of Danny was nervous, the other overjoyed. He had become accustomed to this day being a solitary celebration. George’s presence threw Danny off his game a little. It is a simple enough gesture, but even so, just with George being here, Danny thought that he now understood George’s level of commitment to them as a couple. It scared him. It pleased him.

The last candle was lit. Danny watched the wisp of smoke as George blew out the match. Danny’s blood burned hot as he turned and kissed George, playfully nudging him down on the mattress. Eyes closed, their noses bumped. Danny took his glasses off and set them on the small bedside table. 

Pale fingers carded through orange hair, hunger erupted and lips met again. Danny’s hands scrambled for purchase, pulling impatiently at George’s clothing. They took turns kissing then pausing to remove a piece of clothing. Finally with bare flesh exposed, their fingers begin their dance along craving skin. Fingers, lips and tongues cover ground. Danny is resolved not to leave an inch of George’s skin unexplored. Then those maddening pale fingers wrapped around Danny’s erection. 

Danny moaned and with little rocking moves, he began to lightly hump George’s fist. George took initiative and he kissed down Danny’s neck. He tweaked Danny’s nipples, knowing the mild twinge of pain drove Danny wild. Danny squirmed when George kissed down the light trail of hair on Danny’s stomach, down to Danny’s thigh. 

He ignored the twitch of Danny’s cock, pushing his thighs apart. His head dipped down, his tongue swiped and licked between Danny’s balls. Hazel eyes glanced up and watched Danny panting, mouth wide open. His blue-green eyes stared back down, waiting for George’s next move.

George slid out of bed, looking for the bottle of lube. Behind him, Danny moved. George hardly has time to think before Danny’s hands pulled on his hips and manoeuvred him face down and giggling on the bed. Danny caressed down George’s spine and George heard the snap of a bottle cap being flicked open. 

“You sneaky bastard.” George started to say and then the cool drizzle of liquid between his arse cheeks distracted his thoughts. Danny’s fingers spread and teased around the tight pucker. His lips were gentle and warm against the nape of George’s neck. As Danny’s slick fingers pushed in, Danny kissed George tenderly down the column of his neck. Then he sucked at the skin, marking George with a red blotch. Danny’s fingers dipped in and out, curling until George saw stars as they hit that sensitive spot over and over. 

Then Danny stopped and withdrew the tormenting digits. George whined; his disappointment faded as Danny kissed along his spine. George looked over his shoulder and watched Danny rub his engorged cock with more lube. Danny’s fingers felt tacky with the lube as they drummed against George’s hips while Danny lined up his cock with George’s prepared entrance. He kept George waiting, their tender expressions meeting, before Danny snapped his hips, thrusting into George.

Danny bit George’s shoulder, marking him again. At first his thrusts were shallow and short, giving George a chance to find a rhythm to stroke himself off to. Danny’s fingers drew patterns across George’s pale back, before grasping his hips, pulling him closer so Danny could fuck him deeper. He began fucking him again with a deep, slow pace. George’s muscles clenched, causing Danny’s cock to spasm with delight.

George’s hand pumped his thick cock in time to the deep thrusts that powered into him. And he tried to hold back but as Danny’s movements became more urgent and rapid, George’s self-control faltered. He moaned Danny’s name as his cock pulsed and spurted come over his fingers and the bed sheets. George winced as Danny continued to pound into his sensitized arse. 

Danny was almost there. His body tensed, his hips pushed hard against George. And then just one more hard thrust into George, his fingers dug into George’s hips and a raw sound escaped Danny’s throat. Beads of sweat dripped off Danny’s brow as his cock emptied deep into George.

The Beltane fires have burnt to naught. Their tattered ribbons of smoke drifted across the Highlands, as the pinks, reds and oranges of the morning sun begin to paint the sky. The dawn finds the couple closing their eyes, together their desires sated.


	6. Reshuffle hugs

George appeared tired and small behind his desk. The summer recess brought more doubts and concerns about his role in the government. He didn’t look up when Danny entered. His body is shaking, like he’s holding back flood of emotions. Danny frowned noticing the lines on George’s face were etched deeper. The upcoming reshuffle wasn't going to be easy for anyone. 

Danny had his own doubts about the reshuffle, especially since there was talk about David Laws returning. Nick was being coy about the Laws rumours, not really putting Danny’s concerns to rest. The last thing Nick had mentioned was Danny would remain as Chief Secretary and David would be given a roving brief effectively sidelining Danny’s role in the day to day handling of Coalition policy making. From the papers, Danny knew Cameron was handling most of the appointments on the Tory side of things; pushing George out of the decision making. The loss of Cameron’s confidence was probably hard for George to handle. The Chancellor sighed, letting his forehead rest against his hand. “What is it?” 

Danny had wanted to meet with George to discuss the speech he was going to give at the LibDem conference. Even though the press had already ran headlines about his upcoming attacks on the Tory’s failure to address green issues, Danny thought he would at least run through the meat of his speech with George to help ease the blow. Seeing his work colleague distraught, Danny abandoned the original reason for his visit. 

“Come here.” Danny motioned with his hands. George flashed an annoyed look before reluctantly leaving his desk chair.

Danny reached for him, pulling George into a stiff hug. Eventually George relaxed into the embrace. His head was buried against Danny’s broad shoulder, weeks of pent up frustration and tears spilling out. As Danny cuddled George and his hands ran over George’s back in firm, gentle strokes, he felt like there was something else. Companionship, comradeship; knowing that neither of them should be afraid because they would not be facing this alone.


	7. Danny's Thighs

His hazel eyes followed Danny's legs as they uncrossed and then re-crossed again. His thighs looked positively sinful under those black wool pants. Danny cleared his throat, breaking George out of his reverie. 

"Were you paying attention to anything I just told you?" 

"Of course! I always pay attention to you." Attention of course was always paid to Danny's body, but not necessarily his words. His Highland brogue had a way of mesmerizing George, causing him to recall past activities that made his darling Chief Secretary cry out obscenities in that wonderful accent. He continued to ignore Danny droning on again about the forecast numbers. George sank to his knees and crawled over to the chair where Danny was sitting. His slender, pale fingers stood out in stark contrast against the black fabric as they travelled up Danny's legs. 

Danny uncrossed his legs and peered down at George when he started to massage Danny's thighs. "What are you doing?" 

George's lips quirked into a smirk, "Paying attention to you." 

"Not the kind of attention I had in mind. Can't this wait until later? We do have a country's finances to look after." 

"It is your fault you know, for looking so irresistible today." 

Danny rolled his eyes, holding back a chuckle at the cheesy line. As George kneaded his thighs Danny slid his hands down, undid his belt and trousers. George noticed and impatiently pulled at the material. Danny lifted his hips up just slightly to help George ease the trousers and pants down. 

Danny's thighs, dusted with soft, light hair, were exposed and promptly attacked. George held back nothing, squeezing and rubbing, licking and kissing the delicious flesh. Once he reached Danny's inner thigh, he bit down, gently, wanting to mark Danny as his. He closed his eyes, feeling Danny's skin in his mouth as his teeth nibbled, then released the trapped skin. He sighed when Danny groaned and writhed beneath his hands and mouth. He repeated everything on Danny's other thigh, marking him again in the same manner. George could have wasted hours just worshiping this man's thighs, but Danny interrupted. He reached down, pulling George away by his chin. "Please, I can't take much more of this teasing." 

Even though sucking Danny off was something George enjoyed, he made a mental note to ask Danny to let him restrain his meddlesome hands for the next time. He was disappointed to end his exploration of Danny's thighs prematurely.


	8. Whisky Tour of Islay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol and drunk make-outs and dubious consent ahead

Both men knew that it would take a miracle for them to repeat their 2010 win of Best Double Act at the Parliamentarian of the Year Awards. 2012 had not been a good year for the Chancellor or the Chief Secretary. Still Danny observed George’s expected and obvious disappointment when the award went to Michael Gove and Sarah Teather. He recalled the earlier days when both of their political fortunes were on the move upwards. George sighed, rising from his seat. Danny felt he knew what George was thinking, knowing that as each year inched by, the closer they were to obscurity. 

Danny stood up and out of habit smoothed the pleats in his kilt and adjusted the sporran before he followed George through the maze of tables. He caught up with him at the tent’s exit. He touched George’s arm to get his attention. He turned and Danny was amused that he hadn’t even left yet and the polka-dotted bow tie was undone, stuffed in George’s jacket pocket.

Danny’s hand remained on George’s arm, deciding spontaneously that he didn't want to let George spend the remainder of the evening alone. “Come back to mine for a night cap?” Danny invited, noticing some of the misery in George’s hazel eyes dissipating a little.

Danny knew George collected knowledge and books about war history. He had his own similar obsession with Scotch whisky. Determined to forget about the dismal Spectator awards, Danny decided the best course of action would be a whisky tour of Islay. Ardbeg, Bunnahabhain, Caol Ila, Lagavulin, Laphroaig: the names sounding exotic and dark as their tastes on the palate.

They drank, and with each glass, Danny tried to explain how beneath the overpowering smoky character and the smell of peat, there were undercurrents of spices and berries and notes of salt and seaweed. In the end, Danny gave up trying to play the sophisticated whisky connoisseur when George just downed a generous dram of 18-year Caol Ila, with no regard to Danny talking about the whisky’s lighter appearance and peppery notes. 

“The best part, like always, is seeing you in a skirt.” George reflected, after a few more glasses. He tilted his head back into the cushions of the sofa. The top two buttons of the dress shirt were undone, exposing the pale, slightly razor burnt skin of George’s neck.

“Better than your fancy dress.”

“Like you know anything about fancy dress.”

“If you knew anything Sassenach, I wouldn’t have to remind you that this is a kilt.”

“Skirt.” George grinned, and Danny thought it was the most genuinely happy smile he had seen out of the man in months. Though perhaps he was a bit too inebriated to be a truly competent judge.

He was still thinking about George’s smile when suddenly George’s lips made impact with his. Unsure and with the haze of alcohol too blurry to penetrate, Danny shifted, lowering his body horizontally into the cushions. With George on top of him, they kissed again.

Danny's mouth opened under George’s and he slid his tongue in, tasting the peculiar combination of the various scotches they tried. George sucked at Danny’s bottom lip drawing a whimper and prompting Danny to clutch George's hair, pushing their heads closer together. George broke away first, and they looked at each other. Flushed skin, kiss swollen lips, and hazel eyes so dark they could be black.

“Sorry.” George whispered. “I can leave if you want.”

Danny’s fingers brushed down George’s cheek. The scotch made it all so much clearer, bringing into the focus the duo’s rough times and how facing it brought them closer. “Why would I want that?”

George’s response was to bend his head to Danny’s again, resting his weight along the length of Danny’s body. Heat prickled up Danny's spine from the soft kisses along his jawline and the press of George's thigh nudging the sporran against Danny’s hardening cock. The gentle, controlled presses of George’s lips eventually gave way to sloppy, drunk kisses when he reclaimed Danny’s mouth.

George’s coordination was a little off as his hand slid down, fumbling with pushing the kilt up so his hand could explore under the thick wool. His mouth slackened against Danny’s, and his breath was fast and hot against Danny’s lips, as his fingers circled around Danny’s cock. His thumb grazed Danny's damp tip and circled around before his hand stroked down. The combination of being drunk and the close confinement of the couch caused the rhythm of George’s strokes to be jerky and not really comfortable.

Danny interrupted by slowly easing their bodies back to a sitting position. Panic shot through George’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m rubbish at everything.” 

Danny poured as much affection into one kiss as he could. After pulling back from the kiss, Danny curled one warm hand around the nape of George's neck, thumb rubbing gently over his jaw. 

"It's okay," Danny whispered heatedly in George's ear. “You’re not rubbish." George's arms wrapped more tightly around him, and Danny wanted to memorize the strange warmth and solidity of their bodies pressed together. "I want you in my bed."

Danny stood up, a self-satisfied smile across his lips, as George was right behind him, following him to the bedroom.

“Leave the kilt on.” Was the last thing George was able to mutter before their bodies were lost in warmth under Danny’s sheets, the buzz of the scotch leaving them kissing and grasping.


	9. Couch cuddles

The sofa is narrow, but George is determined to celebrate the end of this awful week by snogging Danny senseless. 

“This isn’t going to work.” Danny squeaked out in protest, but it is fine. George doesn’t mind the clumsy way he is sprawled on top of Danny, kind of half-on, half-off the couch. Danny doesn’t seem to mind all that much either as he greedily claims George’s mouth for a kiss. 

Danny's shirt is partially scrunched up but still Danny's body is too covered in clothing which is unacceptable as far as George is concerned. Slowly, blindly, George kisses his way down, finding the band of exposed stomach first with his hand and then with his mouth. He is graceless, and huffs impatiently tugging at Danny's shirt. Finally he slips his slender fingers beneath it, needy for the feeling of Danny's skin. The rush of tingling heat helps George ignore the dig of Danny's hipbone against his arm. 

He pushes Danny's shirt up. George’s breath tickles across Danny’s fleshy stomach, stirring the soft, gingery-blond hairs beneath Danny’s navel. Danny squirms and George nips a sensitive spot beneath Danny’s ribs. Danny’s chuckles make George pause what he's doing. He rests his cheek on Danny's belly, and smiles. He is content and just happy that Danny still wants him after the madness with Leveson and Jeremy Hunt.

"What?" Danny’s breath is coming in ragged puffs and his fingers are petting George's dark curls. 

"I've become incapacitated with fondness." And George isn't sure if it's the freckles or the intimacy of it, but he can't think of a better way to end this miserable week. Nothing tops snogging him senseless, or teasing the vulnerable skin on his neck or stomach or cock until Danny's shaking and undone.


End file.
